


A Request

by Persiflage



Series: A Child of the Sanctuary [1]
Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: AU, Angst, Established Relationship, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-02
Updated: 2011-07-02
Packaged: 2017-10-20 22:54:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/217979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/pseuds/Persiflage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Helen Magnus makes an unexpected request of James Watson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Request

**Author's Note:**

> Damn these two – they will keep flinging plot bunnies at my brain! Anyway this is a prequel to two other fics I'm part of the way through writing for an AU series. This fic is set about 30 years ago.  
> Beta: catholicphoton on LJ  
> Disclaimer: I don't own Sanctuary – if I did Watson wouldn't be an historical character now!

Watson felt Helen's shudder as he held her close. He could feel tears prickling in his own eyes as the service concluded and he delved into his pocket with his free hand to find his handkerchief, which he passed to her.

"Come on, love, let's get back."

He guided her away from the graveside where they had just buried one of Helen's small team from the Old City Sanctuary.

"How could he, James?" she asked, not for the first time in the few days since Druitt's attack.

"I don't know, Helen," he answered again. He didn't know how Druitt's mind worked these days, and he often felt that he never had understood the man. Every time he thought of Druitt's actions, back when they'd been young, he felt guilt and betrayal in almost equal measure, and if he was honest (which he was, to a fault, he'd been told), he tried not to think about his old friend too often because it hurt too much. God knew how much more it must hurt Helen, given how completely she had fallen in love with Montague John Druitt.

"Let me drive," Watson said as they reached the car.

"All right."

It was a measure of how upset she was that Helen was letting him drive, he decided, since normally she was far too independent to let him do anything for her which she was capable of doing for herself.

They drove back to the Sanctuary in silence as Helen struggled to get her sorrow back under control, at least outwardly.

"Tea?" he asked as they made their way indoors.

She nodded. "I'm going to take a bath."

"All right."

Watson watched her out of sight: her back was ramrod straight and her head was up, but he'd known Helen Magnus long enough to know that she would grieve for months over what she considered an unnecessary death. He also knew that she would blame herself, though no one could have predicted Druitt's sudden reappearance in their lives after so long an absence, or the havoc he'd cause when the woman who loved him was only trying to help him, as she'd tried (and failed) to do so often in the past. He also knew that there was no point in trying to persuade Helen that Martin's death wasn't her fault; to suggest otherwise would be viewed as a betrayal, and she would close up even to him if he said what he was thinking. He sighed heavily and made his way to the kitchen to make them both a pot of tea.

As he got out the teapot, two cups and saucers, and set them out on the tray, Watson recalled Helen's phone call, requesting his assistance to help Druitt, and his agreement to come – he had never refused any call for help from Helen. He'd packed a bag, then waited for Druitt to appear in a swirl of purple light as he teleported into the London Sanctuary.

"Hello old boy." Druitt's tone had been genial enough, but Watson saw a glint of darkness in the other man's eyes that worried him.

"John." Watson had acknowledged him with a nod, then tightened his grip on his bag and took a deep breath before Druitt clasped his shoulder and teleported them to Old City.

Watson had spent days assisting Helen in trying to find a cure for what was ailing Druitt, but when their third attempt had failed Druitt had accused them both of not really trying, and gone on a rampage that had left several residents, including Bigfoot, injured, and Martin dead. Druitt had teleported away from the Sanctuary after killing Martin, and they had seen nothing more of him since.

The kettle finished boiling, so Watson made the tea, then went upstairs and let himself into Helen's suite of rooms. He set the tea tray down on a side table, then he crossed to the bathroom door and knocked lightly. "Helen, tea's ready."

"Come in."

He opened the bathroom door and saw her seated on a chair beside the full bath; she was wrapped in a thick robe, and had unfastened her hair; she looked magnificent in his eyes.

He tilted his head slightly, wondering what to say. "Are you getting in? The water will get cold otherwise."

She switched her gaze from the window to his face and he stepped into the bathroom. "Come on, love, you'll get cold too sitting about in here."

He crossed the room and offered her his hand. After a moment she took it and he pulled her up, then guided her across to the tub. "Shall I wash your back for you?"

She climbed into the bath and sat down. "Thank you."

Watson took off his black suit jacket, then rolled up his shirt sleeves before kneeling beside the bath. He reached for the soap and sponge, then set about bathing the one woman he'd always loved unconditionally.

* * * * * *

After they had both bathed and changed, they made their way to Helen's study to look over the afternoon's reports on the repairs that had been completed, and what work still needed to be done before they could move the residents back in.

"Shall I cook?" Watson asked as Helen closed the final report.

"I'm not hungry," she answered indifferently.

"I know, but as I keep telling you, you need to eat to keep your strength up."

"James, why do you care?"

He looked at her, surprised by the question. "Because I love you, and I always have." He had thought she knew that already.

She glanced at him, then away. "That's what I thought," she said softly. "I don't know what I've down to deserve your devotion."

He tilted his head as he looked at her, then he got up, pulled her to her feet and led her to the sofa, where they sat down together. He held both her hands in his and fixed his gaze on her face. "Since I know you're not fishing for compliments, because you never have done, I shall tell you the unvarnished truth: when I met you, over a century ago, you were the most intelligent, intellectually curious young woman I had ever met. That instantly attracted me to you."

She frowned a little. "So you love me for my brain?"

He smiled. "Not just your brain, Helen Magnus. Your compassion, your drive, the way you've never let societal norms stand in your way, and, if I'm being perfectly honest – "

"Which you invariably are," she said, with a brief flash of amusement.

He nodded an acknowledgement. "Your beauty too." He reached up with his right hand and brushed his thumb over her cheekbone. "I fell madly in love with you that very first day. And even though you only had eyes for another man, I couldn't stop loving you."

"Oh James." She pulled her hands free and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and he embraced her.

He let her cry on his shoulder, stroking her back in a soothing manner until she got herself under control again.

"Come on, let's eat. You'll probably feel better with some food inside you."

She nodded, then got to her feet, and they made their way downstairs to the kitchen, where Watson prepared dinner and Helen sat watching him.

They ate in silence, both busy with their own thoughts, until Watson was clearing the table.

"James?"

"Mmm?" When she didn't immediately speak, he looked up to see her staring intently at him. "What is it love?"

"I wondered if you would do something for me?"

He paused on the brink of saying 'Of course'. There was something in Helen's eyes, an unfamiliar look, that made him temporise. "You know me, Helen, I'll do just about anything for you."

"I want to have a child."

Watson gaped, taken completely unawares. "With me?" he asked doubtfully when he finally found his voice. "What about the embryo?" He'd been the one who had helped her to freeze the unborn child she had conceived with Druitt late in the nineteenth century.

She shook her head. "I'm not ready for that child yet," she said.

He left the tray and moved around the table to sit next to her. "I don't think you're ready for my child yet, either," he said softly. When she opened her mouth to object, he placed a finger over her lips. "Hear me out, love." She nodded. "I think this is your grief talking – you've just lost a very good friend and colleague, not to mention suffered a betrayal at the hands of the man you love. I don't think now is a good time to be making life-altering decisions."

He moved his finger from her mouth, and watched her; he could see she was hurt by his response and it hurt him that she was upset with him.

"I thought you'd jump at the chance to have a child with me," she said, her tone bitter.

"In ordinary circumstances I would," he said quietly. "My love, nothing would give me greater pleasure, believe me. It's what I've wanted for a very long time, but I cannot in all conscience agree now, knowing that grief is colouring your feelings. If you still feel the same way in three months time, ask me again, and you won't have the chance to finish the question, I promise you."

Her expression softened, and he leaned forward to kiss her forehead. "You would make this old man very happy if you gave me a child," he said softly.

"Old man," she snorted.

He raised an eyebrow quizzically, and she reached up to pull his head forward and kissed him. Watson threw an arm around her before she pulled him right off his chair.

When Helen finally released him, his lips were tingling. "Leave the washing up," she said, and got to her feet, tugging on his arm so that he rose with her.

She led the way out of the kitchen and upstairs to her suite of rooms, and Watson smirked knowingly, but he stopped her on the threshold.

"Condoms?" he asked.

She jerked her head. "In the bathroom along the hall."

He lifted her hand, turned it palm up, and pressed a kiss to her skin, then let go and headed in the direction she'd indicated. Opening the bathroom cabinet, he found a full box and an opened one, and he decided to take the unopened box with him.

Back in Helen's room, she wasted no time at all in undressing him, then herself, before pulling him down onto the bed with her. It had been quite some time since they had made love, but it was quickly apparent that neither of them had forgotten what the other liked in terms of foreplay.

Watson was unsurprised by the ferocity of Helen's love-making – they'd lost enough friends over more than a century and a quarter of life for them both to be familiar with the concept of using sex as a means of raging against death. They could enjoy more tender love-making another time: tonight was about defiance, grief and loneliness.

* * * * * *

Watson dozed beside Helen afterwards, waiting for his exoskeleton to recharge again.

"James?"

He opened an eye and squinted at her as she shifted to lie on her side facing him. "Yes love?" he murmured.

"You were right."

He opened his other eye and smirked a little. "I invariably am," he informed her drowsily.

She rolled her eyes, then squeezed his thigh. "I meant about us having a child."

"I'm relieved to hear it," he said sincerely. "Of course, if you do still want a child in three months time, we'll have to discuss logistics."

She quirked an eyebrow at him. "I'm not expecting you to bring junior up on your own," he elaborated. "So either I'll have to move here, or you'll have to move to London." He saw her frown. "Very well, I'll move here."

Helen chuckled softly. "You always did give in too easily," she observed.

" _You_ have always been a woman determined to get her own way," he retorted. "I simply accepted that it was more sensible to save time and energy by not arguing with you, unless it was really warranted."

She leaned forward and kissed him deeply. "You're a wise man, Dr Watson."

"Of course!" he scoffed. "And you are a formidable woman, Dr Magnus."

She shifted closer to him, putting her head on his shoulder, so he wrapped his arm around her, idly stroking his fingers up and down her arm.

"I don't want any child of ours to grow up thinking his or her parents can't live together."

"You will be an exceptional father," she said.

He chuckled. "Well you'll be an exceptional mother, so this child should be a genius, at the very least."

They lay silently for several minutes and Watson was just drifting back into another doze when Helen spoke again.

"James?"

"Mmm?"

"Thank you. Thank you for being such a steadfast friend, and for always coming when I call."

"It's what friends are for," he answered. He tightened his arm around her. "Now how about you let an old man get some sleep."

She laughed softly. "Very well."

"Thank you." As he drifted closer to sleep, Watson couldn't help hoping that Helen wouldn't change her mind about wanting a child. The next three months were going to seem awfully long, either way.


End file.
